The Magic Cheese - стр. 5

   Vovka was taken aback and didn’t even say ‘hello’ to her. He had never seen talking mice before. And also no one had taught him how to bow. He could shake hands or say ‘hello’ all right, but bowing?! Still, he remembered seeing it either in a book or in a movie and bowed low to the mouse. He had no idea how to behave properly to talking animals and decided to be as much polite as possible – just in case.

   “Hello! Will you pardon me, please, but I’ve never seen talking animals before. Is it really you talking or is it a trick of some kind?”

   The mouse grew kinder and grumbled quite friendly, “Well, live and learn, you know. Are you trying your luck and here got stuck? What fairy-tale are you from, dear?”

   “I am not from a fairy-tale. I am from a city district. The only thing is that I have no idea how I’ve got here and which bus I should take to get back.”

   “Good heavens!” exclaimed the mouse and clasped her paws. “If you have no place to go, welcome to the old mouse’s home! Once we have a seat, we can talk and have some tea.”

   The mouse ran to the house, but she hadn’t forgotten the bucket. Vovka wondered how she was able to carry it.

   “Let me help you with the bucket,” he offered.

   The mouse gave it to him and said, “Thank you for your help. The one who is kind to the rest will surely be blessed.”

   With these words they approached the little house made of yellow stones with a little bit of orange in them. It didn’t appear small at a closer look. Vovka liked it at first glance. Everything was so nice and cozy that you had a feeling of having been here already. The porch was painted blue, there were flower pots on window-sills, embroidered curtains and bells made of clay, hanging over the door.

   Vovka came into the house, following the mouse, took his shoes off (he didn’t want to make crocheted rags dirty) and went to the kitchen. In spite of the warm spring day there was fire in a big Russian stove. It smelled of fresh cheese, the ‘Magic cheese’ Vovka had tried at home before he found himself in the meadow. Near the stove there stood a huge red cat in a colourful apron and a chef’s cap. He stirred something that was cooking in a pot.

   Without paying Vovka any attention, the huge cat grumbled at the mouse, “I told you, stop br-ringing str-rangers home. He wasn’t called, so he shall go away. I have my hands full without him. Even if a fr-riend is ver-ry dear-r, I cannot stop making cheese her-re. Why are you not at wor-rk?” he asked Vovka rather sharply.